Jessamyn stepped back to inspect her, frowning. “They forgot your earrings.”

Eliana swallowed against a pang of disappointment and lowered her gaze to the floor. If Jessamyn felt any curiosity about such strange remarks, she betrayed none of it, her stony face hardly more familiar than a stranger’s, and only at that moment, with a swift ache of despair, did Eliana realize what she had been hoping.

That if the Jessamyn she had known could be reached, then maybe Simon could be too.

“Tell me,” she whispered, her voice thick. “How long have I been here?”

Jessamyn retrieved glittering earrings from a cushion on the floor. “Two months.”

A moment passed before Eliana could speak again. Two months was longer than she had guessed. Eight weeks she had spent in nightmares of Corien’s design, and still she could not be sure if what she had seen of Remy—his thrashing body, his horrible screams—had been the truth or a lie.

Her eyes filled with tears; quickly, she blinked them away. She had not used her castings since that day in her bedroom, when Simon had traveled from one side of it to the other. That was a triumph. That was worth any sacrifice.

But how tired she was of sacrifice.

I’ll end this, Eliana. Corien’s whispered memory came sweetly, reminding her. This life of yours, all its violence, all its sacrifice. Your brother will be safe. He’ll be so happy, and so will you. Alive, healthy, safe. Safe, can you imagine? For once in your life.

Eliana blew out a soft, shuddering breath. She pressed her palms hard against her legs.

“Will you hurt me to get her back?” she whispered.

Jessamyn, fastening Eliana’s earrings into place, did not respond.

“I keep hearing those words,” Eliana said. She wiped her cheeks, careless of the rouge. “I don’t know why I’m hearing them. I think someone’s trying to tell me something, but I don’t know who they are or what they mean to say. Will you hurt me to get her back? What does that mean? Is it a warning? A message?”

For a moment, their gazes locked, and Eliana searched Jessamyn’s face with a desperation that felt half a breath from madness.

A flicker of feeling crossed Jessamyn’s face and was quickly gone. Her mouth was a straight line of annoyance.

“Perhaps a memory,” she offered. “With so many angels about, there are often strays.” She raised an indifferent eyebrow. “I would suggest you not dwell on it. The Emperor will not appreciate your distraction.”

Then she glanced past Eliana, dropped smoothly to one knee, and bowed her head.

Eliana turned to see Corien standing at the threshold, watching them in amusement. He wore a high-collared vest of black brocade, a black velvet coat, a bloodred waistcoat.

“What a vision you are,” he mumbled. “If I squint and enjoy a few more drinks, I think I can almost pretend you’re her.”

He held out his arm, but Eliana refused it. Eyes burning with exhaustion, she nevertheless felt warmed by a sudden calm.

Will you hurt me to get her back?

At last, she knew that voice.

“I need to see Simon,” she declared. She flexed her fingers; her castings were cold and dark.

Corien’s smile stretched wide. “As my queen demands.”

• • •

Simon awaited them in a sitting room in the palace’s north wing. He wore a dark dress uniform, the knee-length coat buttoned high at his neck and snugly hugging his trim torso. He stood at the window, looking out into the night, and at their entrance, he turned and inclined his head.

“Your Excellency,” he said smoothly, his gaze on the Emperor. He avoided looking at Eliana entirely.

But from the moment she entered the room, Eliana did not take her eyes off of him.

“Apologies for delaying the concert, Simon,” said Corien, brimming with a quiet, gleeful energy. “I know how fond you are of this composer. But our queen demanded to see you, and it sounded quite serious. I could not deny her.”

Then Corien found a decanter on a serving table, poured himself a glass of red wine, raised his drink to them, and settled comfortably on a chaise in the corner. A servant had lit a small fire; the room’s bronze light shifted with shadows.

Eliana stood in silence for a moment, tense with uncertainty. Perhaps it was a mistake to be here. She could not allow herself to release even a scrap of anger.

But there was something she had to know.

“I am myself,” she muttered, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. Not here, she commanded her castings. Not ever again.

Simon watched in silence. On his chaise, Corien smiled over the rim of his glass.

“I was indeed looking forward to this concert,” Simon said at last, his voice edged with impatience. “So if you don’t intend to speak after all—”

“I will speak,” Eliana said quietly, her arms rigid. “That night in Karlaine. We were attacked. There were adatrox. Crawlers. Cruciata.”

“Yes.”

“You and Remy had been following me, I suppose, since Harkan…” Harkan’s name caught in the back of her throat. “Since Harkan drugged me and took me from Dyrefal. The day the Empire invaded Astavar.”

“Yes.”

That hollow voice, lifeless and cold. Eliana’s fingernails bit her palms. Simon wasn’t stupid. He must have known what she was about to say, and it infuriated her that he could remain so calm, and it infuriated her even more that she could not allow herself to be furious.

She made her voice steady. “Remy was shot that day. Shot in the gut. He died, and I healed him.”

“Yes.”

“‘Save him, or watch him die.’ That’s what you said to me.” Eliana’s mouth soured at the memory. It was mortifying to think of her old, foolish self. “You held me. You told me you weren’t letting go of me.”

Silence. Not even a shift of weight. He was a lifeless painting, watching her unravel.

Eliana forced the words out. “I let you fuck me.”

A tiny smirk played at the corner of Simon’s mouth. “And I thank you for that. I needed it.”

His words punched her, and her stomach lurched to hear them, but she remained standing. Heat flared in her palms; she hardly noticed it.

“I keep hearing something in my head,” she said through her teeth. “At first, I didn’t recognize the voice. It was distorted, distant, and my mind’s been run ragged. But now I know it belongs to Remy. I’ve been hearing it for…” She hesitated. In her mind, days became weeks became hours. She didn’t know how long she had been hearing it.